


Wolf Strike

by zarahjoyce



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Power Rangers
Genre: Gen, Jonsa week, Poor Jon can't catch a break, Remix, also on brainwashed Tommy, idek, very loosely based on Fiveman's premise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21534016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarahjoyce/pseuds/zarahjoyce
Summary: "Sansa!What are you doing up?"He turns to the door, sees the one he's looking for. The yellow girl - the one armed with a bow, the one he--He stiffens.The one he almost killed.(Day 6 of Jonsa Week: Remix of GoT and Power Rangers)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Wolf Strike

When he opens his eyes, the first thing that comes to his mind then is that his head is aching.

Along with _every_ part of his body, as it turns out. 

"Hey you guys! _Hey!_ I think he's waking up!" someone beyond him says, and it strikes him how _young_ that voice actually sounded. How-- _human._

"If he tries anything from there, I swear to god he's going to get a dagger clean through his throat."

"Arya."

"What? I _told you_ , bringing him back here was a mistake - but did any of you listen?" 

"He can't use any of his powers while he's inside his holding cell. He can't even morph. I made sure of it."

"Bran--"

"He almost killed Sansa, Robb. How the fuck are you still so calm after that?"

"Rickon! Language!"

"Right, because _that's_ the most important thing to remember this very moment--"

He makes the mistake of moving his arm - causing the others to pause in their conversation and look at him with barely disguised fury on their helmetless faces.

_Shit_.

The red one - _Robb_ , he guesses - moves closer to the cell. "Can you hear me?" he demands, crouching low.

"Of course he can, dumbass." That's from the pink one - _Arya_. She crosses her arms, seemingly addressing the other - but her attention's all focused on _him_. "He'd gone unconscious, not deaf. Though of course, I can always fix that." She smiles at him, all teeth and ill intent.

The green boy of the group steps closer to the cell - just an inch or two behind the red one - and from where he stands he looks even _younger_ than he sounded, early on. "How come you can morph like us? You're a Targaryen. You're _evil_."

"Rickon!" The blue boy admonishes him - which means _he's_ the one called _Bran_.

He licks his lips. He could've sworn that during his more lucid moments, he remembers fighting _five_ of them, sometimes all at once. So where is--

" _Sansa!_ What are you doing up?"

He turns to the door, sees the one he's looking for. The yellow girl - the one armed with a bow, the one he--

He stiffens.

_The one he almost killed._

His relentless attacks on her are visible in the way she carefully moves, in the bandages gingerly covering up her arm - the one he almost broke before he was overpowered by the combined forces of the others. He wants to close his eyes, look away from her, but doing so would mean hiding from all the sins he's committed - even though he had _no choice_ in the matter.

_Gods damn you, Daenerys,_ he thinks grimly - and not for the first time in his life.

"I scanned him, Bran," the one called _Sansa_ says, eyeing him from her position beside Arya. "He-- he currently doesn't have any Targaryen poison in his system."

"As opposed to earlier?" Bran responds, some sort of understanding dawning on his face. "When he's brimming with it?"

"Which means _what?_ " Arya almost spits, glaring at them for all she's worth. "That we should let him go?"

Sansa shakes her head. "It means he's not under Daenerys' control. It means that maybe--"  
  
"--he can be reasoned with," Robb finishes, moving up to his feet again.  
  
He exhales through his mouth, glancing at each of the five standing before him, unconsciously lingering on _Sansa_ and her injuries.  
  
 _I'm sorry,_ he wants to tell her.  
  
 _I didn't mean to hurt anyone._  
  
 _I didn't mean to hurt_ you _._  
  
"Jon," she says softly, causing him to straighten up because _no one_ has called him by that name for _so long--_  
  
 _"Jon,"_ she repeats, moving closer to his holding cell - except Robb halts her by grabbing her uninjured arm.  
  
"Sans--"  
  
"It's fine," she replies, shaking her head again. "He can't hurt me."  
  
 _Again,_ goes unsaid.  
  
Warily, he watches as she takes Robb's place from earlier. She meets his eyes, unflinching, unafraid, despite knowing what he can do to her, what he _did_ do to her--  
  
"Daenerys has our parents captive, Jon," she starts saying. "Perhaps you've seen them, when you were with her? They are Catelyn and--"  
  
"--Ned Stark," he replies, his own voice hoarse from disuse.  
  
"Holy _shit,_ " says Rickon from behind Sansa - causing Robb to hit him upside the head.  
  
"Y-You know them?" Sansa asks, suddenly gripping the bar of his holding cell.  
  
He swallows.   
  
Yes, he knows them.   
  
He knows Ned Stark - the genius technologist that Daenerys kidnapped from Earth, the one she forces to do unholy tasks that would enable her to conquer it, one day.  
  
He knows Catelyn Stark - the brilliant physicist that slipped him the black power crystal allowing him to morph, like her children does.  
  
 _Yes,_ he knows them.   
  
He nods.  
  
"Please," Sansa says, her eyes filling with tears, "you _have_ to help us get them back."  
  
 _"Why?"_ he asks.  
  
"What the _fuck_ do you mean--"  
  
"Arya." Robb places a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head sharply.  
  
"They're our parents, Jon," Sansa replies, after a quick look at the others. "Of course we--"  
  
"No," he says, looking into her eyes. _"No._ Why would you ask for _my_ help, after-- after what _I've--_ "  
  
 _\--done to you._  
  
She bites her lip.  
  
"You're Daenerys' victim too, aren't you?" Bran pipes up, adjusting his glasses. "That poison she's injecting into you. It turns you to a monster incapable of anything else - except carrying out her commands, whatever they may be."  
  
"If you help us get our parents back," Robb says decisively, "we promise to develop the permanent antidote to rid you of its effects once and for all."  
  
"Daenerys can't _ever_ control you again," Rickon adds, looking strangely vindictive. "You'll be free."  
  
Slowly, Sansa goes to her feet. She turns to the others and says, "How about _we_ give him his freedom _first_ before we promise him anything else?"   
  
"Are you _stupid?"_ Arya roars, crossing her arms. "If you're even _thinking_ of bringing him out of that cell--"  
  
"I am," she responds, meeting Arya's gaze evenly. "And I will." She moves to the control panel, inputs some commands, and one moment later - the doors to his holding cell open.  
  
Arya throws her hands up and turns away from them.  
  
"What do you say, Jon?" Bran asks, looking oddly comfortable despite the odd atmosphere around them. "Can we count on your help?"   
  
He exhales through his mouth.  
  
And glances at Sansa - who offers him a watery sort of smile. "You can trust us, Jon."  
  
 _Trust,_ he repeats in his head, slowly moving up to his feet.  
  
 _Freedom,_ they offer.  
  
In exchange for his help in getting their parents back.  
  
He looks at each of the five standing before him, unconsciously lingering on _Sansa_ and her injuries - and comes to a decision.

_Yes,_ goes unsaid.


End file.
